


To Serve

by Leloi



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Slavery, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, WIP, sex slaves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:44:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 18,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1267036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leloi/pseuds/Leloi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watson stood before his new slaves, looking at each in turn.  They were in his bed chambers.  All three stood before him with their eyes cast down to the ground.  “I wasn’t aware that slavery was still in practice here.  We don’t have it where I come from.”  Casually he paced before them.  “I don’t see the point of ordering someone to share my bed.  I’m not that kind of ruler.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings For: Later chapters will have explicit sex. 
> 
> I watched season three of Game of Thrones in a single week. It always inspires me. In season four Mark Gatiss will play Tycho Nestoris! Imagine the Sherlock/GoT crossovers...
> 
> I have no idea where I'm going with this. It was mostly just a plot bunny that demanded exploration. We shall see where it goes, shall we? It all started with a visual in my head of naked Sherlock being presented as a gift to John.

Watson sat up on his impromptu throne. The former military general turned ruler blinked at the gifts that were set before him. Many of his new subjects brought treasures or food. Some brought animals. Watson wasn’t expecting slaves. 

The man bowed deeply before his new lord, indicating the three at his feet. “I bring you these… Gifts, my lord.”

“I have no need for more servants.” Watson stated, frowning a bit as he stared at the two men and one woman. All three were naked in kneeling bows.

“These are… For the bed chamber.” The man grinned and bowed again.

“Bed chamber?” 

“Bed slaves.”

“Why would I need bed slaves?” Watson mused from where he sat.

The man gaped at his lord. “My lord?”

Watson sighed and waved his hand. “Never mind. What are their names?”

“Names, my lord?” The man looked confused.

“They do have names, don’t they? Most people do. We can’t go around calling each other ‘you,’ can we?”

“Of course… Names.” The man tapped one of the men who instantly sat up. “This one is Lestrade. He comes to us from the fighting pits. His skills are both in body guard and bed slave. He is skilled in both. He is very popular as a stud and his sons inherit his physique.” The man indicated Lestrade’s body. 

Lestrade kept his eyes to the floor, feet tucked under him and his hands at his side. The only bit of covering was in the form of jewelry that decorated his engorged cock.

“He may not have the length but he has the stamina.” The man grinned at Watson before tapping the female to sit up. “This one we call Molly.”

Molly stared at the floor in the same pose as Lestrade. She was not adorned with any jewelry.

“Molly hasn’t yet been bred. But if her mother and sisters are any indication, she will be fertile. She hasn’t yet been deflowered.” The man smirked and stepped behind the second man to tap him.

The slave slowly sat up and flicked his ice blue eyes to meet Watson’s which caused Watson to shiver. His skin was pale and his torso thin. Like Lestrade his genitals were decorated with jewelry.

“This is Sherlock.” The man smacked the slave on the back of the head.

Sherlock dropped his eyes to the floor and frowned.

“Sherlock hasn’t been broken into his new life of servitude. I brought him because he’s pretty to look at… But he’s stubborn and doesn’t take instructions. With a dedicated master he can be tamed. Please accept them all as gifts.”

Watson’s eyes were on the slave, Sherlock. “Thank you. What is your name again?”

“Mycroft, my lord.” Mycroft smiled. 

“Thank you, Mycroft.” Watson raised his hand. Instantly his soldiers took the slaves and whisked them away. 

Mycroft bowed low, still smirking to himself.

^.~

Watson stood before his new slaves, looking at each in turn. They were in his bed chambers. All three stood before him with their eyes cast down to the ground. “I wasn’t aware that slavery was still in practice here. We don’t have it where I come from.” Casually he paced before them. “I don’t see the point of ordering someone to share my bed. I’m not that kind of ruler.” Stopping before Lestrade he leaned down to try to put himself in the man’s line of sight. “Hello? Do any of you speak?”

“We speak.” Molly murmured. 

Watson brightened and turned to her. “Molly? Is that your name?”

“Yes, m’lord.” Molly blushed.

“Right…” Watson sat down in his chair to regard the three. “Well… I don’t actually need slaves. But I accept his gift… It would have been rude not to. My soldiers call me Lord John. Watson is my family name. I’m sure we can find work for you three. What other skills do you have? Molly? What can you do?”

“I can… cook, m’lord.”

John smiled. “Cooking is good. My cook was killed during the war. I haven’t had a decent meal since. If you can cook I welcome it. What about you, Lestrade? Mycroft said you were a skilled body guard.”

“Yes, m’lord.” Lestrade answered. “If that is what you command.”

“I… I don’t command anything.” John crossed his arms over his chest. “My people fight for me because they believe in me. They believe our cause is just. We don’t own people where I come from. They serve me freely. You are all free. You may leave if you like. But when you’re under my protection you are free. Is that what you want, Sherlock? You’re not suited for slavery.”

Sherlock flicked his ice blue eyes to John and frowned. “It must be a trick.”

“No trick.” John got up from his chair. “You’ll need clothing.” And with that the lord opened the chamber door to call for the quartermaster to bring clothing. When he stepped back into the room he was surprised to see the three still standing as if they were slaves. For several minutes he stared at them, confused. Finally the quartermaster knocked and was admitted. Clothing was distributed and then quartermaster gone as if he had never been there. All three held clothing in their hands as if it was suspicious. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s a trick. It has to be a trick.” Sherlock shook his head.

“A trick? Why would I trick you?” John asked.

“We’ve been tricked before…” Molly answered as she dropped her clothing on the floor. 

“Someone gave you clothing as a trick?” John gaped at them.

“Someone offered us our freedom as a trick.” Lestrade answered.

“What am I to do with you? I don’t have slaves… I don’t keep them.” John grew annoyed. “I don’t even WANT them… But you were a gift.” John took several deep breaths to calm down. “Ok… Look… I don’t need a bed slave. Molly can go work in the kitchen, Lestrade can join my guard. Sherlock can… Do whatever he was trained to do. But all of you should put on clothing if you are to interact with my people.” John picked up the clothing Molly had dropped and pushed it into her hands. “You have work to do… So get dressed.” He turned his attention to Lestrade. “You too. You can’t protect me in nothing but your skin.” Finally he turned to Sherlock, his eyes unconsciously sliding down the other man’s body. “And you… Whatever you do, do it with trousers on at least. Your body is distracting.” 

Sherlock smirked a moment before forcing himself to frown.

John went to the door and called in a guard. “Please take Molly to the kitchens and outfit Lestrade for guard duty.” When they were gone that just left Sherlock. “What are your skills?”

“Bed slave.” Sherlock answered, narrowing his eyes at John.

“Not an option. What other skills do you have aside from rebellion?”

Sherlock stepped into John’s space, looming over him in all his pale beauty. “Bed slave.”

John stepped away, shaking his head. “I… I don’t need a bed slave.”

“Then who warms your bed, my lord?” Sherlock asked, stepping into John’s space again.

“No one. I don’t need that. I’m at war. There’s no time for that.”

“No time for sexual release?” Sherlock cocked his head to the side. “Even though you desperately crave it? But you won’t touch the village whores. Why not?”

“I’m… At war.” John breathed, staring up at the other man’s impossibly cool eyes. “There’s no time…” His words were cut off when Sherlock kissed him. It lasted only a moment before John regained his senses and pushed the other man away. “No! I don’t need this.”

“Everyone needs it...” Sherlock purred and stepped into John’s space again, hand pushing into John’s trousers to fondle him. “Everyone has something they want. What is you want, my lord?”

“You’re no low born.” John managed between moans. “You must have a title…”

“Oh?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow and squeezed John’s cock in his hand. “Why do you say that?”

“Low born say ‘m’lord.’”

Sherlock pulled his hand from John’s trousers and stared at the military general. 

“Who are you?” John demanded.

Sherlock shook his head. “It’s not important.” 

“Not important?” John stared at Sherlock a long moment before his eyes went wide. “It’s a trick! This whole thing was a trick! You’re here to kill me!” Quickly he went for the door. “Help! Help, guards!”

“Don’t be stupid… Where would I put the knife?” Sherlock demanded indicating his naked body.

But at that moment John’s guards filled the room, instantly aiming their swords and spears at the naked man.

“Take the others that came with him into custody.”

“They had nothing to do with this!” Sherlock insisted. “They were genuine gifts from my brother, Mycroft.”

“And find Mycroft!” John commanded as they dragged Sherlock away.

^.~

Lord John stopped before the cell that contained Lestrade. “I know who Sherlock is.”

Lestrade kept his eyes to the ground.

“Why was I lied to? What was the plan? Was it to get close to me so I could be removed?”

“That wasn’t why we were sent, m’lord. Molly and I were sent as gifts to warm your bed.”

“Why was Sherlock sent?” John demanded.

Lestrade shook his head. “Please, m’lord… I don’t know. M’lord Mycroft and Sherlock fought. Then Sherlock was dressed as a slave and presented before you. I do not know their plans. Molly and I were told to serve you and not question why m’lord Sherlock was with us. Let me prove my loyalty to you. Molly and I will serve you faithfully. We mean you no harm.”

“Silence.” John sighed and left Lestrade’s cell. Further into the dungeon he came to Molly’s cell. “I know who Sherlock is. Why was I lied to?”

Molly shook her head. “I don’t know, m’lord. I was surprised when he joined us. I couldn’t imagine… M’lord as a slave…” Molly wept and covered her face with her hands. “Poor, m’lord! How could his brother be so cruel to him?”

“Was this a plot to murder me?”

Molly pulled her hands from her face. “I swear, m’lord… There was no intent to harm you or your people. I don’t know why m’lord Mycroft enslaved m’lord Sherlock. He was always kind to me… He didn’t deserve to be treated as a slave.”

“You… Like Sherlock?”

“How can I not?” Molly asked, edging closer to the bars. “He is… Extraordinary.”

“I will take what you say under advisement.” John stated and left her cell to work deeper into the dungeons to the final cell. “Your fellow slaves speak highly of you.”

Sherlock snorted from the corner of his cell, the light from the torch dimly showing his features. “Molly? I made sure she wasn’t taken before she was ready. Female slaves are bred young.” 

“Tell me why you are here.”

“It was a ruse to gain entry into your household… That is true.” Sherlock mused. “But it wasn’t to harm you. There is a man in your army… A very dangerous man. His name is Moriarty but you wouldn’t know him by that name. I had to get close in order to find him. My brother had to pay tribute… He planned to send bed slaves. A male and a female because he didn’t know your taste in bed partners. What is one more bed slave? Once in your bed I could do my work.”

“But you came to me as a bed slave!”

Sherlock shrugged. “It was worth it to find my prey.”

“How can I trust you?” John demanded.

Sherlock stood up and approached the bars, still naked and beautiful even in the dungeon. “My lord, John. I give you my word. I have no intention of harming you. I am here for Moriarty. I am willing to serve your bed if it will keep my identity a secret until I can find my prey.”

“What has he done?”

Sherlock frowned and shook his head. “Many terrible things… And it’s what he has planned for you. It is no coincidence that my brother sent you a body guard. Molly will also serve you well. She is a bright girl and needs the protection of a strong lord. Make use of them and they will prove their loyalty.”

“I still don’t…”

Sherlock reached out through the bars and lightly touched John’s chest. “Let us protect you.”

“So you can stab me in my sleep?” John mused.

“If I’m naked where would I keep a knife?” Sherlock answered.

“You would need to be naked all the time.”

Sherlock smirked. “I don’t mind.”

\--TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Lord John concentrated on the movement of his quill on parchment. Every few moments he dipped his quill into the ink and continued his scrawl. His eyes kept to the paper without looking back over his shoulder at the figure on the bed.

Lord Sherlock insisted on staying naked despite John’s pleas that he at least put on a shift or a pair of trousers. In fact both articles of clothing were on the bed at Sherlock’s feet but the other lord ignored them. 

And so John did his best to ignore the man in his bed, focusing instead on his correspondence.

“You should have someone do that for you.” Sherlock remarked from where he lay, staring up at the ceiling.

“They are too busy. There is a war going on.”

“Don’t you have an adviser?” Sherlock asked.

John finally glanced at the naked man and then immediately looked away. “He is busy. I can write my own letters anyway. I can read… And write. I’m not some low born who worked his way through the ranks. I was born high born, just as you were.”

“I never said you weren’t.”

“And yet you imply that writing my letters are either too difficult for me to grasp or they are beneath me.” John punctuated the end of his letter with a flourish that revealed his irritation. 

“I did no such thing.” Sherlock remarked and rolled over onto his hands and knees to crawl down to the edge of the bed, closer to John. “A lord should have his advisers write for him so he can attend to other things.”

“Such as?” John glanced towards the bed and then returned his gaze to his desk.

“I’m sure we can think of something…” Sherlock mused, tapping the foot of the bed with his fingertips.

“Don’t you have work to do?”

“I’m doing it.”

“It looks like you’re being lazy on my bed.” 

“I can do two things at once.”

“Can you?”

“I have people following my prey’s movements.”

“Then technically you aren’t doing anything… Your people are.” John sealed his parchment with wax and his signet. Taking it to the door, he passed it over to the person waiting outside. “Send this to Castle Bart.” As he turned around and shut the door he found Sherlock standing before him. “Sherlock?”

Sherlock bent down, for he was taller, and brushed his lips against John’s. A warm hand found its way into John’s trousers to touch him.

“Sherlock… You’re not really a sex slave.” John protested.

“I can pretend I am.” Sherlock responded, kissing John’s chin.

“But… Why? I know who you are and why you’re here. You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not.”

Sherlock pulled back and gave a wicked grin before pushing John back towards the bed. His nimble fingers undid John’s trousers and pushed them down his thighs before knocking the lord onto his back and crawling on top of him. “How long has it been, my lord John Watson? How long has it been since you’ve shared your bed?” His hips gave a little thrust, sliding his hardened cock against John’s.

John gaped up at the other lord, eyes wide. “Sherlock?”

“I’ve heard rumors that Lord Watson is above carnal desires… That he denies himself pleasure.” Sherlock slid down John’s body to take the tip of John’s cock between his lips.

“Oh… Gods…” John moaned and unconsciously bucked his hips, pushing himself deep within Sherlock’s warm mouth.

There was a knock at the door.

Sherlock immediately sat up. “Come in!”

“That’s not your place!” John hissed before moaning as Sherlock ground their hips together.

“M’lord!” Lestrade looked in. Realizing what position they were in he cast his eyes to the floor. “M’lord Sherlock… There is news.”

“Finally!” Sherlock pulled away from John and went to the door.

“Wait!” John commanded, looking between the eager lord and his erection.

“We can finish that later.” Sherlock stated impatiently.

“You can’t wander my castle naked!” John answered. “Put something on!” Dropping his head on the bed, he covered his eyes with his wrists and desperately tried to control his aborted lust.

There was movement in the room for a few moments before Sherlock’s voice called, “Better?”

John opened his eyes and saw the lord had a thin gold chain about his waist. Hanging from it, covering his genitals was a small square of silk. “It’s still not…” And then when Sherlock turned again for the door he noticed that there was nothing covering Sherlock’s bottom. “Oh gods… You’re trying to destroy me…”

“I still don’t have any place on my person to hide a knife!” Sherlock responded and opened John’s door to step out. And with that Sherlock was gone with Lestrade.

John lay on the bed, his balls aching. 

Suddenly the door opened again. Sherlock looked in at the lord on the bed. “Come along!”

As John got up from the bed he pulled his trousers back on and regretted ever allowing Sherlock to continue his sex slave charade. 

\--TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe... This is rather fun. I should stretch out plots more often.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I hate being sick. I'm still coughing and congested.
> 
> I thought I'd shake things up a bit... So some fun and then some angst cliffhanger. I blame my cold.

The courtyard was quiet. The body of the guard lay crumpled on the ground, blood in a puddle below him. Lord John and Lestrade stood, watching Sherlock work over the body.

Lord John tried desperately not to look at Sherlock’s bare ass. It was difficult not to. And in the chill of the spring day it was covered in goose flesh. It served the man right for dressing as a sex slave. The clothing choice was appropriate for a warm bed chamber and not the outdoors.

“Stop staring at my ass and come down here.” Sherlock commanded.

John blushed. How had Sherlock known where he was staring? But he obeyed the command and squatted on the ground beside the other lord. “What is it?”

“You see that and this?” Sherlock vaguely pointed at features of the man.

“Um…” John stared blankly at the body.

“It’s more what isn’t there, actually… And he was pushed!” Sherlock waved his hands at the body and looked up at the battlement above them. “From there.”

“But why?” John demanded.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Notice his helm is gone… As is his sword. They were taken from him before he was pushed. The person who took them needed a guard’s helm and sword to pass for a guard.”

“To get to me?” John whispered, paling at the thought. 

“We won’t let that happen.” Sherlock stood and smoothed down his meager loincloth.

John stood and looked between Sherlock and Lestrade. “Who did this?”

Sherlock made a face and indicated John should follow him. All three returned to John’s chamber. Sherlock set the body guard outside the room before turning his attention to John. “Moriarty. I came here to find him. He’s here. You just saw his handiwork. He must be stopped.”

“But why me?” John demanded.

“Because you are the biggest threat to his plans.” Sherlock answered as he sat on the bed.

“What are his plans?” John crossed his arms over his chest.

“We wants to be king.”

“But… Why me? Shouldn’t it be the king you’re defending?”

“And who has the power to take him out should he depose the king?” 

“All the rest of the realm…” John muttered.

Sherlock smirked at him. “Come here, John.”

“Why?” 

“Because I’m cold.”

“It serves you right for prancing around in the courtyard practically naked.”

“You enjoyed it.” Sherlock’s grin widened.

“You are not a bed slave.”

“I can be… For you.” Sherlock answered as he once again undid John’s trousers and slid them down his thighs. 

“You should wear more… If you’re cold.” John whimpered, placing his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders to hold himself steady.

“And you should wear less. Show me.” Sherlock replied as he pulled off John’s tunic. His eyes caught on the twisted scar tissue on John’s shoulder. 

Unconsciously John covered his scar with his hand to hide it from Sherlock’s eyes.

“No… Let me see.” Sherlock insisted as he pulled John’s hand away and pulled him down onto the bed. Straddling the lord’s body, he leaned in to investigate the old wound, tracing it with his fingertip. “Is this why you deny yourself pleasure?”

John shivered and looked away, ashamed. “No one needs to see that.”

“It’s a scar… From battle.”

“I nearly died. It grew infected. Puss and… And it wasn’t pleasant. You’re lucky… You’re beautiful. Anyone would want you in their bed. I’m… I’m no longer whole.”

Reverently Sherlock leaned forward to press a kiss to John’s twisted flesh. “You won it in battle. It made you stronger. Everyone knows the story of the valor you showed on the field that day. This nearly killed you… But you came back stronger. How long has it been since you’ve bed anyone, my lord?”

John blinked up at the curtains above his bed, unable to answer.

Sherlock sat up and stared down at the lord. “You have been to bed…? Surely…”

“The night before I won this scar.” John answered, his voice breaking.

“That was… More than five years ago.” Sherlock retorted. “Why so long?”

John looked away, too ashamed to meet Sherlock’s eyes. “No one… Wanted me.”

Sherlock shook his head. “That can’t be true. A great lord who fought in a great battle. What man or woman wouldn’t have you?”

John shook his head.

The pale man lightly touched the scar. “It’s this. This is why you’ve been unable to take anyone to bed… Your vanity?”

“No! It wasn’t vanity!” John insisted. “I tried! After I recovered I tried! But… The look of horror and… And pity…”

“Do I look at you in pity?” Sherlock demanded, rocking his hips as if to remind John of where he was perched.

“I don’t understand why you are so intent on bedding me. I can give you aid in your search. My men are at your disposal. You can dress as the lord you were born to be. Why do you tease me so relentlessly? Is it for a game?”

“A game? You think this is a game? And what sort of game is played by climbing into a lord’s bed?” Sherlock reached down and undid the fastening for his loincloth, tossing it away to reveal his swollen cock. “No… Lord Watson, this is not a game.” Idly he rocked his hips, rubbing them together. “Not really…” A smirk was caught on the corner of Sherlock’s lips as he kissed John’s lips. “But I do want you to find completion.”

“Oh gods!” John cried out, unable to control the movement of his own hips he so desperately wanted the man above him. 

“Tell me you want me.” Sherlock urged as he wrapped his fist around John’s cock, squeezing it.

“I… Want…” John grunted, lost for words as his world shrunk done to Sherlock’s fist. 

“Want what, my lord John?” Sherlock coaxed with each squeeze and tug.

“Want you.” John managed.

“I still have work to do…” Sherlock chuckled softly and leaned down to kiss John’s scar, flicking his tongue to caress it as his hand worked.

John cried out and managed to wrap three of his appendages around Sherlock’s body before his climax crested. For several long moments he lay gasping for breath, only half aware that Sherlock had gone still above him. 

Finally the tall, pale lord pulled away, looking down at John’s seed on his hand with interest. “You can still make seed… That’s good to know.” Quickly he slid off the bed, his erection unresolved. “I’ll have to check this for viability… But hopefully this means you can still sire an heir.”

“What?” John stared up in surprise at Sherlock’s words. “What are you…?”

“Your seed!” Sherlock excitedly showed his ejaculate covered hand. “This is good… We can find you a lady and…”

John listened with growing horror to Sherlock’s words. “Get out.”

“You still have plenty of time to sire an heir before…”

“GET OUT!” John demanded. Getting up from the bed he went to the door. “Guard!”

Lestrade entered the room and looked confusedly between the two naked men.

“John… You can still sire heirs!”

“I don’t need a bed slave!” John growled. “You will find another occupation for the rest of your stay here.”

Sherlock shook his head, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“Get out!” John pointed to the door. “Lestrade, you will make sure Lord Sherlock has what he needs to complete his mission but he will no longer be welcome in my bed chamber.”

“You don’t want to bed me?” A look of confusion settled on Sherlock’s face.

“Out!”

“But I thought…”

“Thought what? That you could come in here and play with me like some child’s toy? You tell me pretty lies just so you can take my seed? For what? Some sorcery? You didn’t have to lie to me! I would have given you my seed if that’s all you wanted. You didn’t have to pretend to want me. I don’t need you. You’re no better than the rest. You just hide it better! Get out!”

“That’s not why I…”

“I don’t care! I am lord here and I have lost my patience. If you say another word I will send you back to your brother, gift or not. OUT!”

And for once Sherlock meekly obeyed.

Lestrade hesitated a moment, opening his mouth as if to speak. But then he closed it and followed Lord Sherlock out the door.

John closed his eyes and tried desperately to remember that physical was a distraction.

\--TBC


	4. Chapter 4

“Lady Irene.” John’s steward announced.

Lady Irene entered the hall and made her way to where John sat, bowing low before him. “My lord.”

“My lady.” John smiled at the beautiful woman who bowed before him. “What is it you desire?”

“Your time, my lord.” The lady answered.

An hour later the two were found wandering the grounds arm in arm. “How is it you came to be here without an escort?”

“I am the widow of a very old lord with no heirs. His lands were given to his nephews. There is no one to care about what happens to me.” Lady Irene replied and pulled Lord John into the stables. “But I am still young enough to give you heirs if you would marry me.”

“You are very beautiful.” John sighed and smiled at her. “I would be honored to marry a lady of your beauty.”

Irene smiled and stepped up on tiptoes to kiss his lips. “How long has it been, my lord?”

“How long since… what?” John whispered, his body shivering from her gentle touch.

“Since you’ve had a woman.” 

“My lady…” John moaned and wrapped his arms around her slender frame.

“I am not a blushing maiden.” Irene mused as her fingers undid the lacing for John’s trousers. Her hand reached in and took his cock, squeezing it gently. “I do not fear the marriage bed.”

“My lady… Please… We’re outside.”

“No one will see us.” Irene whispered, sliding her hand up and down his length. “It has been a long time since I’ve had a man between my thighs.” Pulling her hand away she lay down upon the straw, pulling up the hem of her dress until her naked thighs and womanhood were exposed. “Come have me, my lord.” 

John knelt down above her, allowing her to pull off his tunic and push down his trousers. Her hand caught his wrist and she directed his hand to her warm, wet folds. “Gods…” John breathed, pushing his fingers into her. His thumb flicked at her jewel, causing her to squirm.

“That’s it, my lord.” Irene whimpered, wrapping her arms around his back. 

Something cold scratched at John’s skin under his scapula. His eyes focused on her. And then he was aware of a presence beside them.

Irene made a noise of surprise, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, my lord.”

“John?” Sherlock’s voice queried. 

John turned to look at the man standing beside them, dressed in a monk’s robe. Sherlock was learning over them and was holding Irene’s wrist. As John pulled away he saw what Irene held… What scratched him. She held a dagger. “What?”

“A lady’s gown has many hiding spots for weapons. This is why I never got dressed.” Sherlock remarked as he pulled the lady up by her arm. “Lestrade?”

Lestrade appeared behind Sherlock. “Yes, m’lord?”

“Have Lady Irene sent to the dungeons and question her on her involvement with Moriarty.” 

“Yes, m’lord.” Lestrade answered as he took the dagger from the lady’s hand and led her away.

John sat on the hay, his trousers caught around his knees as he stared up at the robed Sherlock. “She was going to kill me?” 

“Did she hurt you?” Sherlock knelt between John’s feet, resting his hands on John’s knees.

“I felt her scratch my back.” John answered.

Sherlock pulled off the trousers and then helped John roll over onto his hands and knees. “Just a scratch, my lord.” Sherlock breathed, leaning down to breathe on the wound and then lightly lick it. “No poison.” A gentle kiss followed as his hands held John’s hips. 

“Your robe is scratchy.” John commented. 

Sherlock’s kisses worked their way down John’s spine as he pulled away. When he reached John’s ass he licked the top of the crack, causing John to shiver. Quickly he pulled off his robe and resumed his kisses, his tongue probing in between John’s cheeks.

“Sherlock… Please…” John moaned softly.

Sherlock sucked on two fingers for a moment before pushing them into John’s tight heat. 

“Gods…” John moaned. 

“How long has it been since you lay with a man?” Sherlock asked quietly as he spread his fingers.

“Since you?”

“I didn’t penetrate you.” Sherlock answered as he pressed someplace within John that made the lord cry out and squirm.

“Long… Too long…” John managed.

Sherlock guided John onto his back, fingers still inside the lord, stretching him. “But you’ve been with a man before me.”

John nodded, glancing down at where Sherlock’s fingers disappeared inside of him. “A long time ago.”

Sherlock smirked and leaned down between John’s thighs, taking his cock into his mouth.

“Ah… Gods…” John whimpered and reached down to tangle his fingers in Sherlock’s curls. 

Sherlock stared at John, his lips touching the lord’s base and his tongue caressing the underside of his cock. 

“I don’t know how you can do that… Don’t you gag?”

Sherlock pulled off and smirked at John. “No. No gag. You can fuck my throat as hard as you need.” Impishly he licked John’s tip before swallowing him again. A third finger was added to the stretch.

“Gods…” John moaned, opening his legs wider as he pushed his hips up.

Sherlock swirled his tongue and applied a bit of suction before humming. 

The hum found its way to John’s spine and he bucked, fingers tangled in Sherlock’s curls to pull his head down to meet him. Wrapping one leg around Sherlock’s shoulders he pulled the other man closer, arching into him and cursing with each thrust until finally he burst. For several long moments he gasped for air, only vaguely aware of the scratchy nature of the hay under his sweaty back… Or the tightness of Sherlock’s curls in his fingers. Gentling his fingers he released the other lord’s hair, surprised when a few strands were caught between his fingers.

Sherlock pulled away, licking the seed from his bottom lip before crawling up John’s body to kiss the scar on his shoulder. 

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” John whispered, aware of Sherlock’s erection against his hip. “You don’t need to seduce me… Really… You have run of my castle. You don’t need to do anything for me.”

Sherlock smiled down at the lord, something impish in his pale eyes. “I want to.” His hips moved, grinding his erection against John’s limp cock. Leaning down again he licked at John’s scar, tracing it with the tip of his tongue as he breathed warm air upon it. “Let me possess you.”

“Oh Gods…” John moaned.

With several more lazy thrusts Sherlock’s tempo changed. Grinding himself against John’s thigh he bowed his head, resting his forehead against John’s shoulder as his rut intensified. Finally he went still and sighed.

John lay there, feeling the warmth blossom on his hip, aware that Sherlock had spilled his seed for the first time since his arrival. Casually he reached down and touched the wetness, bringing his dampened fingers to his line of vision. 

Sherlock stirred and looked at John’s hand. A conflicted look passed through his eyes. “I should… Go question Lady Irene.” Getting up he reached for his discarded robe, unmindful to the mess on his belly. After pulling the robe over his head he gathered Lord John’s trousers and tunic. “Lestrade should return shortly. He will protect you.” 

John took his clothing in silence, pulling on first the tunic as he remained seated in the hay.

“I’ll… Come to you tonight… If I’m allowed back into your bed chamber?”

“Why do you want to possess me? I don’t understand the appeal.”

Sherlock squatted down onto the ground to be at John’s level. “You don’t?”

John shook his head. “I’m just… A servant to my king.”

Sherlock surged forward, knocking John flat on his back as he was covered with tall, handsome brunette. Sherlock stole John’s breath as he kissed him deeply. Pulling away with another impish grin he stood up as if nothing had happened. “Have you ever met your king? Not the old man… But his son, the new king?”

John frowned. “I have not been called to court… At least not yet. Last I saw of our present king he was still a prince. He was… Still a child.”

“He is no longer a child. You will meet him. At the end of the season you will be called to court.”

“How do you know?” John demanded. “And what of the front line?”

“The new king will wish to formally meet all of his sworn lords. You served his father… He would have you affirm your allegiance to his cause. Once this business with Moriarty is put to rest the front line will be secure enough to travel.”

“If this Moriarty is caught.”

“He will be.” Sherlock grinned at him and ran his hand through his curls. “May I sleep in your bed chamber tonight?”

John pulled on his trousers. “If you must.” 

“I must.” Sherlock replied with a grin.

At that moment Lestrade returned. 

“Guard Lord John with your life.”

“As you wish, m’lord.” Lestrade replied.

And with that Sherlock was gone.

\--TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day!

“Tell me about your meeting of our new king.” Sherlock requested as he lay naked on his side, one arm casually thrown over John’s waist. 

John was still dressed, having just collapsed on his bed after returning to his bed chamber from his duties. “Tell me about Lady Irene first.”

Sherlock rested his head on John’s shoulder, tightening his hold on the other lord’s waist. “She couldn’t tell me much. She had been given a bag of gold and promised another if she came here to murder you. She thought she could use her status as a widow to seduce you… And she was correct. Had I not been there you would have been found dead in the stable. You must be careful who you bed from now on, my lord.”

“Tell me again why I shouldn’t be extra careful around you?”

Sherlock grinned and lightly kissed John’s cheek. “Where would I hide my weapon?” Throwing his leg over John’s thighs he pushed his erection against John’s knee. “Oh… There it is.”

“Gods… You have sass.”

“So tell me about how you met our king.”

“I was sixteen. My father was still alive. He died later in the war… But at the time we were at peace. The king called for a tourney to celebrate the prince’s tenth birthday. I was the youngest to win a tournament.” John answered. “The prince awarded me with a token of valor.”

“What was he like?”

John shrugged. “Young. Small. He had… Wild dark curls and pale eyes. I am told he looked a lot like his mother. But the queen died in childbirth, bringing him into the world.”

“It’s difficult to grow up without your mother.” Sherlock mused, lightly tracing the edge of John’s tunic with his fingertip. 

“That was… Nine years ago. When I think about King William I still see that little boy who tied his favor to my arm. I served his father… And now I serve him.”

“Even though you only met him when he was still a prince.”

“I am loyal.” John answered and reached down to take Sherlock’s hand. 

“And you have valor.” Sherlock breathed.

“Hmm?” John hummed, feeling close to sleep.

“I remember you at that tourney. I was still a child. But you were so brave and strong. More than once I thought they would unhorse you… Or you would be hurt. I held my breath each time you met your opponent. But you won all your rounds. And then I found out you were the youngest to compete… And win!”

John blinked up at the drapery above his head. “You were there?”

“Yes. I was there. It’s the only tourney you competed in… Even though there have been other tournaments since. I hoped I would see you compete again… But you never did.”

“Once was enough for me. I don’t go out seeking honor.”

“You were injured in battle only four years later. You were still a very young man when you gave up the pleasures of the flesh because you lost a part of yourself on the battlefield. I would like to give back that missing part… If I can.”

“Why?”

“Because you are the most magnificent lord I have ever met.”

“You’re flattering me.”

“Truthfully… When I saw you at the tourney I developed a bit of hero worship for you. It broke my heart when you were wounded in battle only a few years later. How can one that won the prince’s favor break themselves and lose all joy in life? No… I would have you be glorious once again, my lord Watson. You will serve your king.” Sherlock murmured and rolled on top of the other lord. Lightly he kissed John. “And I will serve you in return.”

“I don’t need to be served.” John answered.

“No… But you need to be loved.” Sherlock whispered, kissing John deeply.

“I don’t… Need that…” John whimpered. And yet his hands touched Sherlock’s sides.

“I want you to take your pleasure with me.”

“Sherlock…”

“Hush… I have admired you for nine years, my lord Watson. Since I grew to manhood I have dreamed of you taking me in your arms and filling me. Please?”

“What of your obsession with my seed?” John suddenly asked.

“I have heard that some battle injuries make it impossible for men to find release. I hoped that was not the reason you declined company to your bed. I also hoped that one day you would sire an heir… So your lands are passed on to your sons and not taken by others. I would like that your lands be occupied by a Watson from now until the end of time.”

“Oh.”

Sherlock sat up, straddling John’s hips as he stared down at the lord. “I will have to sire heirs too… But for now I would have you inside of me.” Shifting a bit, he undid John’s trousers and pulled out his already erect cock. 

“Let me… Undress?” John whispered. 

Sherlock nodded and dismounted, watching John pull off his clothing until he was just as bare. 

“I do not have anything to help make this easier.”

Sherlock shook his head. “I already prepared myself. I should be open and slippery enough for you to slide in without any difficulty.”

John bowed his head and grunted as his cock twitched. “You’ve prepared yourself…?”

“Every night in hopes that I could have you.” Sherlock answered.

“Gods…” John cursed.

Sherlock scooted closer. “I have never shared myself with anyone else… I want you.” Wrapping his arms around John’s shoulders, he pulled the other lord down atop him. “I want our first time to be easy… So you can take me as hard as you like.”

“Sherlock…” John moaned as he kissed under the other man’s chin. Reaching down he found Sherlock’s words about his preparations to be true as two fingers easily slid into the slippery orifice. With a little movement of his hips he found himself embedded in the tight heat. “Gods…”

“You call out to the gods a lot during sex… Are you aware of that?” Sherlock mused as he reached down to take John’s ass in his hands, pulling the lord deeper. “Take me.”

John whimpered and began to move. “Oh Gods…” But now he was aware of his words and he bit his lips as he began his needful tempo. It had been a long time since his last bedding. Hands and mouths didn’t count. It had been years since his last bed partner had looked at him the same way Sherlock did now… With a lustful fire in his eyes and a smirk on his perfect lips. John kissed the other lord’s lips. 

Sherlock moaned into the kiss and readjusted his legs to allow John in deeper. One calf rested on John’s ass, helping to pull him in deeper with each down stroke. Too soon he was holding John against him as the lord bucked wildly at the onset of his orgasm. Sherlock held him tightly and felt something warm pulse deep within his bowels. Frantically he reached down to give himself the few remaining strokes he needed to follow John over the edge. 

They lay for a time, panting together until John rolled off and covered his face with his hand. 

Sherlock rested his head on John’s shoulder. “Let me keep you.” Absently he traced one of John’s nipples. “Let me keep you forever.”

John pulled his hand away from his face and stared back at Sherlock, one eyebrow raised.

There was a knock at the door and then Lestrade looked in without waiting for an invitation to enter. “We have him, your highness! I mean… m’lord. I’m sorry.” Looking contrite, the guard withdrew.

John froze as the Lestrade’s words registered. Dark curls and pale eyes… Why hadn’t he noticed it before? And even after Sherlock asked him about the tournament… Meeting King William when he was still a boy…

Sherlock sat up on the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the far wall. “You… You didn’t recognize me.” Quickly he slid off the bed and pulled on the monk’s robe he had adopted, not bothering to clean up the mess on his skin. “I’ll be back… Later” And with that he was gone out the door. 

\--TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We closed escrow on a new house! Yay! But that means I've been packing boxes instead of writing. Boo! I bring you a short chapter. Yay! This week I fly out to visit family in Hawaii and my not have time to write. Boo! 
> 
> I'm conflicted.
> 
> But it looks like this story is drawing to a close. Sorry it couldn't be longer. I blame "moving." Moving day is in a couple of weeks.

Lord John sat on his throne and stared at the man who was bound in chains before him. The scruffy looking brunette had a smirk upon his lips and a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “Why?”

“Why?” Moriarty echoed. “As if you didn’t know, my lord.” 

“I do not…” John began.

“No clue? No clue why? Oh why, our king has his eye on you? You his champion and his knight in shining armor, valiant and brave… More than any other knight? You don’t know?” Moriarty grinned like a mad man, a flicker of glee in his brown eyes. “Don’t know why you of all are gifted with his highness, lord of the bed chamber? To take him deep… Deeper than anyone? You think you know him? Know our king because he’s had you?” 

Mycroft stepped forward and raised his hand. Immediately four of his personal guards yanked on Moriarty’s chains to flatten him face down upon the floor. “I think that’s enough of that.”

John sighed and looked to Lord Mycroft. “Who are you? You said you were brother to the king?”

“Royal bastard, at your service.” Mycroft grinned and bowed before John. “My mother was a common maid, unworthy of my royal father’s marriage bond. A more delicate flower was chosen to be his queen, mother of my dear brother, his majesty William Sherlock Scott Holmes. My royal father saw fit to keep me and bestow me with honors he couldn’t give my mother.” 

“So… You are his brother?” 

“Of course. I worry about him… Constantly.” Mycroft sniffled. “And now he shall return to his royal duties.”

At that moment the king entered John’s throne room clad in clothing more fitting of his class. Behind him followed Lestrade. “Is the prisoner ready for transport?”

“Where are you taking him? My liege?” Quickly John added the title to his question, aware that Sherlock was no longer the bed slave, but royalty.

“Dungeon… Execution.” Sherlock stated waving his hand as if to dismiss John’s question. “Lestrade will stay with you for the time being until I summon you.”

“Your highness commands… I obey.” John murmured with his gaze to the floor.

Sherlock turned his attention from the prisoner to John, squinting his eyes a bit. “I do this for your own protection, my lord.” 

“My king is generous.” John answered.

Sherlock made a face and looked about the throne room, making a dismissive gesture. Immediately his brother, brother’s men and prisoner vacated the room leaving only Lestrade, Sherlock and John. “Why are you acting like that?”

“I do not understand the question, your majesty.”

Sherlock bit his lips and stepped in close to John’s space, trying to get the lord to meet his gaze. “John?”

John looked away.

“Look at me.”

“I cannot. You are my king…” John’s words faltered at the end, allowing the betrayal he felt to color his words.

“And you are my valiant Lord John…” Sherlock reached out and touched John’s cheek to raise his gaze. “You’re safe now.”

“I should not have bedded you.” John whispered.

“It’s what I want.” Sherlock answered and stepped in closer for a kiss. “I would have you in my bed every night for the rest of my days…” His arms wrapped around the lord’s waist, pulling him tightly against him. “You are mine. I plan to keep you.” With a nip to John’s lips he pulled away with a smile. “I will take Moriarty to his punishment… And within the year I will call you to court. I will never let you leave my side.” And with that the king grinned like a mischievous child and walked away. At the door he looked back. “You will protect him with your life, Lestrade… Or I shall have your head.”

“Yes, your highness.” Lestrade answered.

\--TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Bet you thought I abandoned this, right? Not so! I mentioned last time we bought a house and that I was on vacation. Since then we moved and settled into the new place. We sold the old place. We also went on vacation to Scotland (just got home last night). This story has never been far from my mind. I just haven't had time to sit down and type. Next chapter is already written in my head.

Six months and not a word came from King William, known to Lord John as Lord Sherlock. In that time the war ended. Unexpectedly peace broke out across the land. And yet no word came from the palace. Lord John opted to stay in the castle he had won by conquest, sending a small portion of his household back to his ancestral lands to tend to his own castle. Molly stayed… As did Lestrade. 

“His highness will send word, m’lord.” Lestrade stated one evening as he took his post outside Lord John’s bed chamber. 

Lord John shook his head and retired within.

Several more months passed. Farmers who had been soldiers had long ago returned to their fields to plant. His own army broke up to return home, occupying both his old lands and his new. 

And then there was Mary…

Mary was the daughter of one of Lord John’s captains, one of his banner men. Captain Morstan died in battle leaving only a daughter. With no male heirs to claim his lands her hand was sought after. The common folk adored her for she was kind and thoughtful. During harvest festival she was crowned as the Harvest Queen. Lord John placed a wreath of wheat upon her head and watched with interest as she resided over the festivities.

“Lady Mary is fair.” Lestrade commented. “You will need to take a wife.”

“I am not even thinking about wives…” John admitted.

“His highness wishes for you to have heirs.”

John frowned at the mention of “his highness.” “I believe he has forgotten about me.”

“Never, m’lord.” Lestrade replied with a smile. 

“Then why haven’t I been called to court?”

“These things take time, m’lord. But I believe his highness will be pleased if you take a wife to father an heir. She is a worthy match for you.”

John pondered Lestrade’s words as he watched Lady Mary dance gaily with one of the festival revelers.

^.~

“My lord…” Lady Mary bowed to Lord John, keeping her eyes to the floor. 

“My lady… How are you faring since your father’s passing?”

“As well as can be expected, my lord.” Mary answered, flicking her eyes up to glance at him and assess his mood. “My mother’s brother’s son may lay claim to the land.”

“Have you given thought to marriage? If you marry the land may pass to your husband and you may keep the lands for your own sons.” John suggested.

Mary blushed and shook her head. “Without my father’s advice I’m afraid…”

“Would you allow me to find you a husband, my lady?”

“My lord?” Mary finally lifted her chin to look at John properly. “You would find me a husband?”

“So that you may pass the lands to your own sons? Of course, my lady. Your father was one of my best banner men. I could not neglect my duty to you, his daughter and only kin.”

“Who did you have in mind, my lord?”

Lord John smiled at her, blushing a moment. “I would take you as my wife. I find I need a lady wife. You need a lord husband. We both need heirs. Would you have me, lady?”

Mary blushed and curtseyed.

The wedding date was sent for spring. 

A week before the wedding a message was sent from the king. 

^.~

Lord John set down the parchment he received. “His highness asks for my presence at court within the week.” John stated aloud to his near constant companion, Lestrade.

“A wedding at court!” Lestrade responded in awe.

“I can’t marry Mary now.”

“This is what his highness wishes for you… An heir. Heirs come from marriage.”

“How am I supposed to do that if he… He wants me.”

“He is your king… Mary will be your wife. Your duty is to both of them.”

With a sigh, John shook his head wearily. 

^.~

Lord John approached the dais and knelt with his eyes to the floor. At his side Mary did the same. Both waited for King William to acknowledge their presence. 

“Lord John… Lady Mary…”

John looked up at his king and was completely surprised when a skull was tossed to him. “What is this?”

“It’s a wedding present. That is all that’s left of Moriarty.” 

John fumbled a bit with the skull, dropping the mandible so it shattered on the floor. 

“Careful, Lord John.” Sherlock chuckled. “Now come closer so I can talk to you without half the room listening.”

John obeyed, carrying the skull up to the dais with Mary beside him.

Sherlock smiled at Mary, assessing her a moment before returning his attention to John. “She is very pretty. She will make you plenty of worthy heirs. When do you marry?”

“The wedding was supposed to be tomorrow.” John admitted. “But then we were called to court.”

“There is no reason the wedding can’t be tomorrow. I will preside over the ceremonies. I only ask of one thing… For tonight.”

“What is it, your highness?” John asked.

Sherlock leaned in closer so only John and Mary could hear. “Prima Nocta.”

John dropped the skull.

\--TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes... I'm aware that historically Prima Nocta probably didn't exist the way Braveheart depicts it. But it's a fun idea to play with and I can't resist. 
> 
> And I just got home from Scotland so William Wallace has been on my mind.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Yay! Are you pleased? To be fair... The chapter I posted yesterday was supposed to be part of this chapter but I wanted to create suspense. Dun Dun DUNNNNNN!

Lord John climbed into the comfortable bed. It was to be his wedding bed tomorrow night… But tonight…

With a frown he adjusted the blankets and blew out the candle on the table next to the bed. As he got comfortable he tried not to think about what Sherlock and Mary were doing. Would they be in Sherlock’s room? A faint tinge of jealousy awoke in John and he was annoyed that he didn’t know who it was directed towards. Mary got to bed Sherlock… Or Sherlock got to bed Mary. Either way he was left out of whatever was going on between his soon to be bride and his king. 

John was annoyed with himself for dwelling on Sherlock’s words of love and devotion the last time they had been together. Had it really been the night Moriarty was caught? That was before John knew that Sherlock was actually King William. What had those pretty words been about? What did they mean? John was upset with himself for not having noticed the man who was so intent on bedding him was actually the king. 

John rolled over onto his side, staring into the darkness of the unfamiliar room. The bed was far more comfortable than any of his own. The mattress was soft. And in that instant he remembered the look on Sherlock’s face when they had sex. Would he look the same way when he took Mary? Would she see the lust in his eyes or hear the whispered words of devotion? Would it be too dark to see? What was it like to be a woman and to feel a man’s cock enter her? Would he excite her first so she was wet? And then tomorrow night would she be disappointed that John’s length and girth weren’t the same?

John rolled onto his stomach and pressed his face into the pillow. Beneath him his cock hardened with interest. Prima Nocta was meant to deflower the bride so that the groom would not be burdened with “original sin” of a bride’s first blood. Did Sherlock really believe all that nonsense?

And then the door opened.

“What is it, Lestrade?” John asked, his voice muffled by the pillow. There was no answer and so John looked over his shoulder. In the darkness Sherlock’s face was illuminated by a candle. “Your highness?” John struggled to roll over and sit up.

Sherlock shut the door and crossed the room to set the candle down along with a vial. Without looking at John he pulled off his nightshirt and tossed it aside on the floor. The mattress moved as Sherlock climbed into the bed.

John moved over to allow his king room. “Your highness?”

“It’s Sherlock.” Sherlock answered as he reached out to touch John’s face and kiss him breathless. “I will always be your Sherlock.” 

“But Mary…”

“Mary is sleeping soundly.” Sherlock answered, attempting to pull John’s nightshirt from him.

“She’s not hurt…”

“Of course not. I never touched her.” Sherlock managed to pull off the shirt and toss it away to lick John’s nipple.

“But… Prima… Oh…”

“Don’t be silly, Lord John. It’s not Mary I plan to bed tonight. It’s you.”

“But you’ve already bedded me before…”

Sherlock paused in his kisses and rested his chin on John’s chest. “Tomorrow you marry. Tonight… Let me be inside of you.”

“Your highness…”

“It’s Sherlock.” Sherlock kissed John’s lips and then kissed a wet trail down his body, taking particular interest in chest, belly and cock. 

“Gods… Sherlock…” John moaned, reaching down to touch the curly head between his thighs. “Why am I even getting married?”

Sherlock pulled off John’s cock to kiss his belly again. “Because you need heirs. Heirs come with marriage. And I can’t marry you…” Sherlock’s kisses found John’s scrotum and down between his arse cheeks. A tongue probed there. 

“Gods… That’s filthy.”

Sherlock grunted but continued, pushing in first one finger and then a second. “You bathed.”

“Still…” 

Sherlock worked his way back up John’s body, keeping his fingers in John as he went. “My John…” His lips reverently kissed John’s sternum. “I plan to exhaust you before your wedding.”

“I feel sorry for Mary…”

“She is fertile. If you get her with child this week…” Sherlock broke off his words to reach for the vial beside the bed. “I won’t summon you to my bed until she’s pregnant.” Unstopping the vial he used the contents to carefully prepare John’s tight orifice. “How long has it been since you’ve done this?”

“I… I was always on top.” John admitted. “Lord’s privilege…”

“I’m the first?” Sherlock mused, adding a third finger.

John grunted in reply.

“Well… That is appropriate since you are my first.” Sherlock chuckled and moved himself between John’s thighs. In the dim light of the candle Sherlock stared down at John. “You are mine. Always… Mine.”

John nodded in agreement. “I live to serve you, your highness.”

Sherlock frowned a bit but kissed John anyway, shifting to press his cock against John’s tight opening. And then for a breathless moment he was pushing himself into John for the first time. The way John opened to him and engulfed him made him hold his breath until he was fully sheathed. “Oh… Gods… John.”

“Now you’re the one calling for the gods.” John chuckled softly.

Sherlock pulled back and then pushed in again… And again! Really he could not help himself as he repeatedly pushed into John over and over. “John…” 

John reached out and laced their fingers together. His leg wrapped around Sherlock’s hips, pulling him in deeper with each thrust. “That’s it… Like that.”

Sherlock pulled a hand free from John’s grip and sat up a bit, frantically fumbling with John’s engorged cock. His hips still moved and the rhythm was difficult to keep. “Finish… Please finish… John… I can’t…” Sherlock cried out and slumped over, his hand still working John. “Please, John…”

And then John understood his king was having difficulty fighting off his own pleasure for John’s sake. John reached up to pull Sherlock back down on top of him. “Take me.”

Sherlock cried out and went stiff.

John tightened on the other man’s cock, feeling his own release soon follow. 

Sherlock relaxed upon feeling John’s seed in his own fist. Regaining his strength he wrapped himself around the other man. “Mine.”

“Yes…” John gently rolled them onto their sides, pulling the blankets over them. 

When John woke several hours later the candle had guttered out. His head was on Sherlock’s shoulder and his king was softly snoring. Their skin was still covered in dried seed. It was beginning to smell but John found he didn’t mind. Wrapping his arm around Sherlock’s body he closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

And when John woke again there was light edging in around the draperies. Sherlock’s fingertips pulled away from where they had been lightly caressing John’s cheek. “Morning…” John mumbled.

Sherlock leaned down and kissed John’s lips. “I look forward to many more mornings awakening beside you.”

“But not until I get Mary pregnant.” John sighed.

Sherlock bit his lips and shifted a bit in the bed so they were face to face. “You will remain my lover?”

“Do I have a choice?” John smirked.

Sherlock frowned. “Of course you have a choice. You think I would keep you against your will?”

“I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” John sighed. “Yes, of course I’ll be your lover. For as long as you want me.”

“Always…” Sherlock replied softly, lightly touching the edge of John’s ear.

“I’ll have to tell Mary.”

“She already knows.” Sherlock answered.

John blinked a few times and pulled away. “She knows?”

“Of course she knows. She isn’t stupid. I explained to her that you were my lover and that you both would live here with me so you could share my bed.”

“And what did she say?” John demanded.

Sherlock shrugged. “She really didn’t say anything. I made sure she was comfortable in my rooms and then came to you.”

“You can’t just tell a lady that her husband is to be the lover of the king…” John started.

“I assure you… I can.” Sherlock answered.

“She must think…” John began and rubbed his face.

“She thinks she is marrying you in order to keep her lands and to conceive heirs. It’s not for love. She knows that.”

“She deserves more.” John sighed.

“You will be a good husband to her. Marrying you will give her the stability she needs and she doesn’t have to worry about her husband taking what is rightfully her land.”

John lay back down on the bed, staring up at the canopied draperies. 

Sherlock rolled over on top of the lord, resting his head on the other man’s chest. “You need to bathe… But first we will share pleasure again.”

“Again?”

“That is what it means to be my lover… And it’s only fair since I have to give you up for a time while you perform your husbandly duty.”

“She hasn’t seen me naked.” John breathed, glancing down at his shoulder.

“As a proper lady, I should hope not.”

“I mean… My scar.”

Sherlock shifted his attention to the scar on John’s shoulder. “This is a badge of honor. You won it while in my service.” Lightly he kissed the scar, licking it. “If you are that concerned… Bed her in the darkness.” Sherlock crawled down John’s body to lick his cock. “I, myself, prefer bedding you when I can see you.” And with that Sherlock swallowed John down to the base, humming softly as he bobbed. 

John found he could not speak. Watching his king swallow him with no regard to station or propriety. And when Sherlock looked at him there was so much desire within his eyes. John remembered Sherlock had always looked at him like that… Even when he was pretending to be a bed slave. There was always that need and devotion. John reached down and lightly touched the curls atop Sherlock’s head. “Come up here.”

Eagerly the young king crawled up his body, kissing his skin along the way until he found John’s lips. His body moved, rubbing them together, delighted with the sensation of skin on skin. With a feral growl Sherlock rolled off and frantically reached for the vial from the table. Pouring the contents onto his hand he tossed the rest away and opened his legs to push his fingers into himself. 

John watched in surprise as his king desperately prepared himself. Reaching down he rubbed his fingers against his king’s to get them oily and then pushed his own fingers into the tight orifice. 

Sherlock withdrew his fingers and opened his legs wider to give John more room to work. 

John stretched the muscle, scissoring his fingers to create space. When Sherlock was relaxed enough for two fingers he added a third.

Sherlock squirmed beneath him. “Take me, John… Take me…”

“You’re still too tight.” John answered, using his free hand to push the curls from Sherlock’s forehead. 

“I order you… As king… Now! I want to feel it.”

And all John could do was obey. Pulling his fingers out he used the remaining oil to coat himself and then he was pulled into Sherlock’s embrace. There was barely enough time to line himself up before Sherlock wrapped his legs around him. Sherlock was tight and warm. His hips made slow thrusts to give Sherlock time to adjust but his king would have none of that.

“Hard! Hard, I order you!”

“I’m going to hurt you if I’m hard now.” John answered.

“Don’t argue with me. I have to give you to someone else today. I have to give away what is rightfully mine. I don’t want to share… And yet I have to.” 

John blinked in surprise at his king’s words… And the tears that gathered in the corner of his eyes. Sherlock was in pain. Not his arse… But his soul. All because he had to give John to someone else. John did the only thing he could think to do. He leaned down and kissed Sherlock’s lips. “I’m yours.”

Their movements became gentler. Sherlock relaxed enough to allow John to lazily thrust into him. His fingers eased in their grip of John’s body.

“I belong to you… My king.” John moved carefully. “My body… My soul… Is yours.” His hand reached down to stroke Sherlock’s cock, causing the other man to whimper and tilt his hips. “If you command me to fall upon my sword… I will.” John pulled back a bit so he could stroke Sherlock in time with his thrusts. “If you command me to fall upon your sword.” John squeezed the tip and gave Sherlock a small grin. “I will happily do that too.” With another squeeze he settled back down on the other man. “You were the first to look at me with love in a long time… You didn’t see a broken soldier. You saw me… The man I could be again. And I am yours. If I thought for a moment you wanted a bed slave I would dress myself in golden chains and sit at the foot of your throne. But you don’t. You want a companion and lover. I can be that for you. I’m yours and you can do as you wish with me.”

Sherlock grunted in reply, too close to his climax to be eloquent. Instead he wrapped both of his legs around John’s hips to pull him in deeper. Too quickly he was falling over the edge. As his body clamped down on John he felt the other man give another two strokes before something warm filled his bowels. The king relaxed as both he and his lover pulsed seed. “If I could… I would marry you.”

“I know.” John answered and kissed him. 

There was a knock at the door and Lestrade entered, as was his custom. “Your highness? Your bath has been prepared.” The guard stood, regarding both men in the bed. The blankets had been kicked away so he could see exactly how they were connected with John between the king’s legs. 

John gave Sherlock another kiss and then pulled away to sit beside him on the bed. 

Sherlock lazily lay there. His legs still open, leaking John’s seed onto the bed. “My nightshirt, Lestrade?” 

Lestrade further entered the room and bent down to pick up his king’s nightshirt from the floor. Shaking it out first, he held it up. 

Sherlock oozed out of bed and stood before the guard so Lestrade could dress him. When he was sufficiently covered he returned to the bed for one final kiss. “I love you.” Was whispered warmly in John’s ear before he followed the guard out of the room.

John watched them leave… Suddenly aware of the mess they had made in what was to be his marriage bed. And today was his wedding day.

\--TBC


	9. Chapter 9

John’s wedding day… Filled with pomp and circumstance. The king threw a royal party and it seemed the whole kingdom was invited. Well… Perhaps not the entire kingdom. But there had been a war and people ached for something to give them the sense of celebration they had not seen in a long time. Lords and ladies were invited to the palace in order to pay their respects to the king and the king fancied a party while they were there. Lord John’s wedding was just a small part of the festivities.

John made his way down the aisle, holding Mary’s arm as they both approached the throne and knelt before their king. 

Sherlock hopped up from his seat and approached the two. “Rise Lord John and Lady Mary.”

Obediently the two stood, their hands raised before the king.

Sherlock reached for the sash that was held out to him for the ceremonial tying of the hands. At the last moment he added his hand to theirs and wrapped the sash around all three. “What I have joined together let no one take apart. So be it.”

John blinked up at Sherlock, feeling his warm hand cover his own, tied to him with the sash as closely as his own hand covered Mary’s. Was this some mistake? Had the king just bound himself into John’s marriage? Was it intentional? “So be it…” The words fell from his lips as he glanced at his bride.

Mary’s eyes were on the bound hands. Otherwise she made no mention of the connection.

As quickly as the sash was wrapped it was unwrapped and tossed back to the servant who was in charge of it. Sherlock grinned and clapped his hands together. “That’s done then! Now to the feast!”

“The feast?” John echoed quietly. There was no mention of a feast when the plans were made for the wedding.

“Really, Lord John… There must be a feast! With music and wine and dance!” Sherlock turned towards the doors to the great feast hall, his court scrambling to get out of the way as he passed through them and to the doors. “Tonight we feast and make merry and send you off to your marriage bed properly!” Sherlock intoned with a sort of manic glee.

Of course Lord John and Mary had to follow. The feast was for their benefit. They hurried after their king and met him at the open doors to the banquet hall. John looked inside and found that it was extravagant and bedecked with flowers and mountains of food. 

“Are you surprised?” Sherlock asked.

“When did you arrange this?” John asked, looking at all the detail with awe. It was clear no thought was given to expense. 

“I am a man of many talents.” Sherlock answered, entering the hall to cue everyone that they should do the same. There was a chaos of people as they came in and found their names at various tables around the room. At the head table sat John, Mary and Sherlock. Sherlock took a place to the side with John beside him and Mary on the other side. “Are you pleased?”

“It’s too much, Sherlock.” John breathed so none of the guests could hear his familiarity with their king.

“Nonsense…” Sherlock waved John’s concerns away. “You are my beloved and so I shall shower you and your bride with everything you desire.”

“It’s too much.”

Sherlock gazed out at the room full of dazzled nobility who laughed and made merry as the wine began to flow. “John… There are many benefits in being my consort. This is but one of them.”

“Feasts?”

“You are the favored of the king. I shower you and your wife with gifts to publicly express my affection for you.”

At that moment the entertainment started and so John was unable to respond to Sherlock’s words.

Over the course of the evening he ate a little too much food and drank a little too much wine. Before he knew it he and Mary were whisked away to their bedchamber for their first night. As he lay naked, panting for air he wondered if he had imagined Sherlock rubbing his thigh during the feast to keep him hard.

\--TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I'm back! 
> 
> If you've been following "As Changing As the Moon" you will know that I was away for Nanowrimo. I finished with 50,068 words! Yay! 
> 
> Unfortunately... Halfway through my computer decided it would shut off and not turn on again. I took it to a repair place and they told me my hard drive was corrupted so the computer couldn't boot up. I took it to a data recover place because my whole life was on that computer and I did not have anything backed up. $1,000 later I recovered my doc files and the first half of my Nanowrimo novel. Very expensive life lesson? Back up your hard drive regularly. To be fair... $200 of that was for a 1 TB external hard drive to put my rescued files on. I could have told them that my laptop was only 2 years old and only had a few GB of data... But they went with the big drive.
> 
> Now I am using my gaming computer. It runs way too hot to be on my lap. I have to sit at a desk. My muse isn't happy. Blegh!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! I updated! Are you shocked? I'm shocked... And I'm the one writing it. Truth be told, I ran out of ideas after the wedding scene. And then I got busy with other fics and left this one on the back burner for 18 months. I kept telling myself "I have to get back to that one..." And comments to my other fics have started to say, "When will you get back to To Serve?" Umm... Now-ish? Thanks for continuing to poke me for an update.
> 
> Since last I posted we've had Abominable Bride to get the creative angst juices pumping. ;p

Sherlock never wanted to be king. On some level he knew that he would one day be forced to sit on his father’s throne. The idea of groveling of servants filled him with dread. What he wanted more than anything else in the world was to be free. It was a daydream he often had while he was sitting with his tutors, learning about affairs of state. Mycroft was free, for he was a bastard. There was never any expectation on him to rule or take a wife and sire heirs. When Sherlock was still very young he realized he didn’t particularly care for females. It was the males that interested him. 

There had been the stable boy, Victor, who spent most of his time grooming his father’s horses. Sherlock had been severely reprimanded for even speaking to him. Princes were expected to interact with those who would be closer to their peerage. But young lords were too interesting in fighting to pay him any sort of attention. When they did notice him it was to carefully step away. Sherlock was very much aware that he gave off a strange sensation to everyone. 

And then on his tenth birthday he had seen young Lord John Watson at the tournament. Young Lord John flashed a smile at him that melted his soul. At 16 he was already beginning to fill out into the young man he would soon become. Sherlock watched as Lord John’s eyes trailed down to an older fighter’s codpiece and he blushed with a nervous smile. In that instant Sherlock knew that Lord John was like himself. In that moment he gave his heart completely to the young lord. And as he grew he kept his eye on him. 

Sherlock followed the news of Lord John’s life. From fighting off coastal pirates to the near fatal shoulder wound and losing his father. Then more recently John’s fighting the usurper that declared himself king. And it was at the end of this fight that Sherlock had gone to him in the guise of a bed slave to find out if the man was what he had always imagined him to be. He was.

It would have been easier to bed John and find him to be lacking so he could cut all ties to him… Choose someone else as a lover. But John was everything he imagined and more. He spent three seasons pondering if John Watson was really everything he wanted in a lover. And half that time he wondered if John even wanted him. Did John fuck him from a sense of duty? No… Their first time together John didn’t even know who he was. But that may have been because Sherlock had been so insistent. A fear began to grow that John only tolerated him to be kind and he really was only interested in women like Mary.

It was something that made him feel ill sitting in his chambers, waiting for his John to impregnate his new bride, Mary. What if she managed to get him to fall in love with her?

It wasn’t fair, but as many a tutor pointed out, “Life is rarely fair.” If life was fair he could claim John as his husband… If John wished it. 

A movement in the corner of the bed chamber caught his eye. Lestrade stood there, unnoticed. “Lestrade?”

“Your highness… Lord John has emerged from the bridal chamber.”

“How many days has it been, Lestrade?”

“Nine.” Lestrade answered.

For nine days he had been left alone with his own thoughts and self-doubt… Vaguely he recalled only demanding seven days. John taking two days more wasn’t a good sign. Nervously he rubbed his face to try and clear away his insecurities. “Is he hungry?”

“The maids have been providing the bridal chamber with meals from the kitchens.” Lestrade responded. “Your highness?”

Sherlock glanced at his guard. “Yes?”

“Where shall we put them? The bridal chamber isn’t… It’s not meant for…”

“The guest chambers in the south tower will do.” Sherlock responded.

“So far?” Lestrade breathed.

“Is there something you want to say, Lestrade?”

Lestrade paled. “I just thought… You would have them use a bed chamber near yours. There is an empty room down the hall…”

“You’re not here to think… You’re here to obey orders.” Sherlock growled. 

“Yes, your highness.” And with that Lestrade was gone.

Sherlock stared at the door, his body sluggish and tired. “Nine days…”

\--TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still unsure how this will end. I've written about 2000 words (two chapters) past this point with no end in sight. If you were to plot me using the series as a guide we're somewhere between Sign of the Three and His Last Vow if that's any indication.

“Why are we being moved, Lestrade?” Lord John asked.

“This is the bridal chamber. It’s meant for weddings.” Lestrade answered, watching the couple pack.

“I understand that part… But you said something about the south tower? Where is that?”

Lestrade pointed towards the window. “It’s there… The tower near the outer gate.”

John looked out at the gate and the tower. It was separate from the keep. “Not in the keep?”

“There is a comfortable guest chamber.”

“We are to live in guest chambers?” John turned to look at Lestrade, frowning.

“My lord…” Mary murmured. “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not alright. He wants us to live here with him and he puts us in the guest chambers away from the keep? What happens when he summons me? I cross the courtyard and knock on the keep gate? ‘Please let me in, I have business with the king in the middle of the night.’”

“M’lord…” Lestrade glanced around nervously, unable to give a proper answer. 

John stared at Lestrade’s nervousness for almost a minute. “Alright, we’ll go. Please have our horses readied so we may return to our lands.”

“My lord, we can’t do that!” Mary protested and turned to Lestrade. “He didn’t mean it. Don’t tell his highness he said that. You’re going to get us killed!” The last phrase was directed at her husband.

“He brought me here and now he’s sending me away!” John shot back, vaguely indicating the south tower.

Mary approached Lestrade and gave him a strained smile. “South tower is fine. We’ll require servants to move our things.”

“Of course.” Lestrade answered and left the chamber to make the preparations.

“You’re going to get us killed!” Mary snarled at John. “Have some self-control! He moved you to the south tower away from him? So what? He’s the bloody king! He can do as he pleases with you. He can stick you in the south tower… Or he can stick your head on a pike. Don’t fight this, John. He’s our king.”

“He’s… He’s… I don’t know why he changed his mind.” 

Mary wrapped her arms around his waist and soothed him. “Maybe he’s giving us time to get to know each other. Maybe he’s waiting for signs that I’m with child. Maybe he doesn’t want the rest of the court to know that you’re his paramour. You can’t know what he’s thinking.”

Within the hour servants arrived to haul away their things. Mary offered her arm to John. “Take me to the gardens.”

“What gardens?” John challenged.

“This is a castle. Let’s go find the gardens, my lord.” And with that she dragged him out of the room and down the hall. “This is our home now. We should get to know it.”

“This isn’t our home. We’re guests here… Argh!” The cry escaped him because Mary trod on his foot. “Well… It’s true.”

“Shut up.” Mary stated, dragging him along. “I don’t want to die here because you can’t behave.”

“Still…”

“My Lord Watson… Did it ever occur to you that I may have some insight? I am a woman, after all. I know what my sex must do in order to survive as a mistress. Drawing attention to yourself is not how you survive. Enemies… Family… All can become jealous of the attention given to the mistress or see them as a way to harm the lord. You can’t be so oblivious, can you? Certainly you have encountered mistresses before.”

They were making their way down a corridor in the keep. No one was about. 

“Please stop saying mistress.” John moaned as they passed by a courtyard. 

Mary laughed softly. 

John laughed with her. 

Mary pulled him into the next courtyard. There were manicured bushes and a fountain. “It’s nice here.” 

“I suppose those who are privileged to live in the keep need some open spaces.” John remarked as he looked about. “Take it in… This is the last time we’ll be allowed here since we are no longer favored of the king.”

Mary frowned at him. 

“It’s true. You and I will have to take our walks outside the castle gates if we want anything like this… Unless you like strolling through mud and horse shit.”

“Stop it. You’re acting like a spoiled child.”

“Am I?” John asked with a frown.

“You are.” Mary responded and gave him a curtsy. “My lord.”

“I just… Want to go home and forget.” The last words were a mere whisper as he realized that anyone could be about, listening in on them. Quickly he took her arm and led her away. 

They traveled through the twisted hallways to the keep gate. It was shut and the door’s guards refused to open it. 

“But we have been moved to the south tower...” John attempted to reason with the guard. “We shouldn’t even be in here. Why won’t you let us out?”

“Sorry, m’lord.” Lestrade approached from behind. “The king wishes to see you.”

“Now?” John was surprised.

Mary tapped his arm in warning. “My lord husband will be delighted to attend to the king as a loyal servant.”

Lestrade nodded in agreement. “Come, m’lord.”

\--TBC


	12. Chapter 12

“You wish to leave.” King William’s tone was soft and yet harsh. 

“I’m being moved outside of the keep.” John answered. “That’s just a little farther outside the keep.”

The king tapped his fingers on his desk, pursing his lips. “Why?”

“Why, what?” John queried.

“Why do you wish to leave?”

“I think I’ve worn out my welcome.”

“I think I am the one who gets to decide that.”

“And you’ve decided it.”

“Explain.”

“Why else would I be moved outside the keep? The message is clear, your highness. You don’t want me.”

“You have that backwards.” The king growled.

“What?”

“Nine days, Lord Watson. I gave you seven days and you took nine days.”

“I wasn’t aware that you counted.”

The king stood and closed the distance between them. “What is that supposed to mean? You don’t think I can count?”

John took a step back. “No… I… No… I didn’t realize it had been nine days. You told me to stay until I got her pregnant. I didn’t know you meant seven days exactly. If I had known I would have kept better track of the days.”

The king stepped back and looked away. “I’ve come to realize that I forced this upon you and I regret that.” With a heavy sigh he returned to his desk and sat down on the chair. “You and your wife may go.”

“Sherlock…”

Sherlock shut his eyes and shook his head. “Just go. You’ll be given a chest of coins and jewels for your service.”

“Sherlock, please…”

“I won’t call you to court ever again. Serve me by keeping your lands…”

John kissed him, pushing his tongue into the other man’s mouth to silence him. Pulling away from the messy kiss he hissed at the king. “Shut up.”

“How dare you tell me what to do…?” Sherlock began and was silenced by another kiss. They broke apart for air. “I’m your king!”

“So kill me.” John challenged as he kissed again, his hands tugging at Sherlock’s tunic to find his warm skin underneath. “Kill me for disobeying you… I don’t care.” Kneeling down, he nipped at the exposed skin. His fingers found the lacings for Sherlock’s trousers and undid them to expose him. “Go ahead and call your guards in here to execute me.” His mouth swallowed Sherlock’s cock down to the root.

Sherlock kicked him away and cried out, “Lestrade!” 

Lestrade appeared and looked between his accosted king and the lord panting on the floor. 

Sherlock pointed an accusatory finger at John. “My lord doesn’t know his place. Strip him and place him in my bed chamber.”

Lestrade blinked at the order of the orders. “I… Obey.” Hastily he pulled off John’s tunic and pushed down his trousers. John did not fight back. When he was fully stripped he was marched from the room and down the hall to a door. Lestrade unlocked it and pushed John inside before locking it again. 

The room was lit by a fire in the hearth. The bed was unmade as if Sherlock had been using it before he had met John in his study. For a moment he looked around, trying to find the best place to meet his fate. And he remembered the moment he had first met Sherlock, placed before him as an offering. Quickly he went to his knees on the hearth. The door made a sound and he bowed as the sex slaves had done almost a year before. The door opened and shut. Footsteps entered the room and stopped before him.

“I was unaware slavery was still in practice here.” Sherlock’s voice spoke. “We don’t have it where I come from. I don’t see the point in ordering someone to serve my bed. I’m not that sort of ruler.” 

John bit his lips, aware that his own words had come back to haunt him. There was a tap on his shoulder. “What is your name?”

John sat up, keeping his eyes on the floor. “John.”

“Just John?”

John nodded. 

“Why are you here, John?”

“To serve my king.”

“I’m not that sort of ruler.” Sherlock echoed back his words.

“I thought…”

“Thought what?”

“I thought my king wanted to keep me.” John whispered. “I thought he loved me… That he would always love me and protect me.”

“Because you were forced?”

“I was never forced. I wanted him and he wanted me. I didn’t know he was my king… All I knew when I met him was that he wasn’t a bed slave.”

“How did you know?”

“He didn’t know how to be a slave.” John finally looked up at Sherlock’s face. “You were horrible at it.”

“Why are you here, John?”

“In this castle? In your bed chamber? I’m here because you called me here. You told me you would be called to court in a season. I waited for three. You lied to me.”

“I didn’t want another servant to come at my call.” Sherlock sat down on the bed and patted it with his hand. “Come up here.”

John obeyed, climbing onto the bed even though his knees were sore from kneeling on the hearth. “What do you want, your highness?”

“What does it matter? You can’t give me what I want. All I can do is take it from you.” 

“Why? Because you’re my king? King William?” John took Sherlock’s hand and kissed it. “What do you want, Lord Sherlock?”

Sherlock pulled his hand away and shook his head.

John pushed him down on the bed and straddled his body to sit over him. “What do you want, Lord Sherlock?”

Sherlock frowned. “I want you to stop being so annoying.”

John scooted down and pulled Sherlock’s trousers off, tossing them away so only his tunic remained. “What do you want, Lord Sherlock?”

Sherlock growled and pulled off his tunic to toss it away, leaving him bare. “I want you to stop asking the same question over and over.”

John settled himself on Sherlock’s legs, face in his king’s crotch. “Where is that naughty lord posing as a bed slave who had his way with me over and over again?” Lightly he licked Sherlock’s cock.

“You broke his heart!” Sherlock replied.

“I did not!” John shot back and then leaned down to suck on the exposed appendage. 

“You married… A woman.” Sherlock was having trouble concentrating on his words with John sucking on him.

“You made me marry her. You said I needed heirs.”

Sherlock moaned and pulled his legs up, opening them wide to accommodate John. 

John nibbled on Sherlock’s scrotum. “Do you still love me, Lord Sherlock?”

Sherlock gave an irritated sigh and sat up, nearly pushing John from his lap as he stared down at him in annoyance. “You talk too much during sex.”

John blinked up at him and casually pulled a pubic hair from his lips. “It’s an easy question.”

“And if I say no, then what? You’ll leave?” Sherlock challenged.

“No. I’ll still be here, awaiting my punishment. I attacked the king. I took liberties with his person. My life is forfeit.”

Sherlock shook his head. “I don’t have my weapon on me.”

John looked over Sherlock’s naked body and gave a helpless laugh. “That’s how you got me to trust you. Look at me! I’m naked and unarmed! Where would I hide my sword?”

There was a hint of a smile on Sherlock’s lips… Merely a pull of the lips before he set them firm again. “Shush!” Sherlock admonished, climbing on top of John’s sprawled body. “Or I really will use my sword.”

“I’d like to see you try…” John whispered before Sherlock took his lips.

\--TBC


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dirty make up sex.

John lay sprawled over the bed, his ass in the air as he tried not to wiggle from the embarrassment of his king using his tongue on him. Fingers and tongue worked together to stretch him as he lay face down on the royal bed. For a moment he tried to imagine a princess or a queen in a similar position, but couldn’t. The king really liked his bottom if the sounds he made were anything to go by. The love extended to his cock which received an occasional fondle to keep him hard.

Sherlock pulled away with a final bite to John’s left buttock before he sat up and scooted forward to push himself into the space he had created.

Powerful thrusts pushed him into the bedding and John braced himself to take it. Fingers clutched him, holding him in place as the one behind him continued. The other hand frantically pumped at his cock. Too soon he finished, his seed falling uselessly on the blanket. The lord had been completely unprepared for the intensity of the moment and he couldn’t hold back. There was dampness on his back and it confused him to feel it. Suddently Sherlock went still and the collapsed, pushing him into the bedding.

And then there were ragged sobs of someone in pain.

John turned his head to look back at what little he could see of Sherlock. “Your highness?” Sherlock rubbed his face on John’s back before rolling off. John looked down at the broken man crying beside him. “What’s wrong?”

“I do love you.”

“I know.” John whispered and kissed his cheek, aware that Sherlock had been licking his dirtiest of places. Love would only allow him to do so much.

Sherlock held him for a long moment before letting him go. “You should return to your wife.”

John grunted and pulled the blankets over them. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m your paramour, remember? My place is here with you.”

They settled together. For a long time they were quiet. Silently they stared at the fire and shared wine, drinking from the same cup as John rested against Sherlock’s chest.

“You were crying.” John prompted.

“I thought I lost you.” Sherlock answered. 

“Is there anything I can say to make you believe that I love you and I don’t want to leave?” John asked.

Sherlock set the wine down before slouching in bed. “None. Deep down there will always be doubt that this is some sort of duty to me. Perhaps you feel it’s your duty to please me. I will wonder if I’m being selfish and should let you go back to your lands.”

“I don’t…” John whispered.

“And then there’s gossip at court…”

“What gossip?” John asked.

“That what we are doing is unnatural and forbidden by the gods.”

“How can love be forbidden?”

“Don’t you see? I’ve corrupted you and forced you into sharing my bed. I’ve tainted your soul.”

“That’s ludicrous!”

“But it’s gossip! Who is this Lord John Watson and why does he have so much control over the king? Is he planning to overthrow the crown by seducing his way into the king’s bed? And what of Lady Janine who has been rumored to be the king’s choice for a queen?”

“Who is Lady Janine?” John asked, confused.

“It’s rumor and gossip, John. Do keep up.”

“Who is spreading these rumors?”

“He is a pompous git who has come to court…. One Charles Augustus Magnussen… Or Milverton. He’s used both names.”

“And why haven’t you thrown him in the dungeon?”

“He has power, John. He finds out secrets and uses them to gain favors. And I am so sorry I am dragging you down in my shame.”

“It’s not shame.” John answered, sitting up in bed. “You have a blackmailer in court?”

“Many kingdoms have master blackmailers. They are like leeches. They suck down power by draining those that already have power.”

“Sherlock, you can’t allow him to stay here.” John frowned. “I’ll get rid of him.”

“You can’t do it, John.”

“I may be your paramour, but I’m also a land holding lord. I have an army at my fingertips. Doesn’t that give me any sort of leverage over him?” 

“He will destroy you, John.”

“You are my king. I will do anything in my power to protect you. I am a soldier.”

“He is unlike anything you’ve ever met before on the field of battle.”

“I have to do something.” John whispered.

Sherlock’s eyes softened and he pulled John against him, holding him against his chest. Lightly he kissed John on the top of the head. “There is nothing you can do.”

“I can try.” John answered.

Sherlock held him tight, trembling despite the warmth from the fire.

John rested against Sherlock’s warmth, feeling a little drowsy in their afterglow. “Now… About my chamber in the south tower…”

-TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Lord John followed King William into the court, pleased at the way lords and ladies scrambled to get out of their king’s way lest they be punished.

“Your highness…” A tenor greeted.

Sherlock turned in one graceful movement to stare at the man who had called out to him. “Lord Magnussen… Or is it Milverton today?”

“Please… Milverton is my mother’s family name. This must be your newest plaything. He is shorter than I imaged.” Magnussen smiled coldly at John.

John suppressed the urge to shudder at the dead look in the man’s eyes. 

“Let me get a good look at this… This country lord.” Magnussen took a step closer to John, looking him over. “Country lords are so interesting. Their hands are stained and rough from work. It’s a shame to call them lords, really… They toil like a servant or a beast. Not a proper, civilized lord.”

John stood his ground, although the scent of shit and unwashed, stale musk that wafted from Magnussen made him want to move away. Sherlock needed him to be strong.

Magnussen ran a hand up John’s arm, leaving a trail of oily sweat and his pungent body odor behind. “Strong. I suppose if you like that sort of thing. He’s good for standing on all fours like the animals he’s surrounded by… A little tumble in the straw in his stall.”

“Careful.” Sherlock whispered, dangerously. “You wouldn’t want your sponsors to have to pay for your arrogance.”

“Wouldn’t want that.” Magnussen sneered and undid the lacings of his trousers. With a turn he let loose a stream of urine into a nearby vase, letting it splash onto the stone floor with his carelessness before he was through. With a shake he deposited his cock back into his trousers and tied them again. “Gods save the king.” And with that he slipped away.

The crowd of lords stared in shock at the vase while ladies swooned.

“I’ll kill him…” John whispered and made a move to follow.

Sherlock caught his arm and squeezed it. “Don’t be a fool. He’s doing it to taunt me.”

“He has no right, Sher-… Your highness.”

Sherlock stared at him for a long moment before glancing at the crowd. “Well? Is someone going to clean that up or will I have to do it?”

A scullery maid appeared with a rag and a bucket of water.

Sherlock turned away and continued in the direction he had been going before he had been interrupted. John trailed behind him. The rest of the court kept their distance from them.

“This isn’t right, Sherlock! He can’t do that. You’re the king.” John snarled at him as they walked, careful to keep his voice low so no one could overhear. “I’ll kill him. Give me a sword and I’ll take that smug head off his shoulders and present it to you on a pike.”

“Don’t be silly, Lord John. Why would I want his head stinking up my court? At least feed him to the flesh-eating beetles first.” 

“What sort of beetles?”

“Flesh-eating beetles… Do keep up, John.” 

“There are flesh-eating beetles?” John queried, looking a little green around the gills.

“I have a small colony. They are useful for cleaning bones.”

“You clean bones?” John was confused and surprised by what he was hearing.

“You don’t think I boiled Moriarty’s skull to present it to you, do you? But that’s not important right now.”

“He can’t talk to you like that.”

“He didn’t talk to me, he talked to you.”

“He implied you take farm animals to bed with you!”

Sherlock blinked and squinted at John as if to study him. “This bothers you.”

“Of course it bothers me. I may work with my hands, I may be a soldier, but I am not an animal to be taken in a stall.” As soon as he said it he remembered the incident with Irene in the hay and the subsequent release by Sherlock’s hand. “I mean…”

Sherlock smirked and rolled his eyes. “You work side by side with your people and they respect you because you are all working together. They are willing to fight and die for you because you are not one of those soft handed lords that treats them with contempt. Those calluses come from using your sword to protect my kingdom. What does it matter what he thinks?”

“It matters.” John glanced at the crowd of lords and ladies. “My reputation and yours. He is as horrible as you described. I refuse to live like this.”

Sherlock pulled John further away from the others into a side room that was rarely used. “What would you have me do?”

“Not you… Me. I’ll… Find a way to be rid of him.”

“I already told you, I forbid it.”

John bit his lip and lightly touched Sherlock’s cheek. “You can’t deny me anything when I put my mind to it… Can you?”

Sherlock blushed and bowed his head. “You won’t be alone. I’ll be there.”

“I’d feel better if your army was standing there with us.”

“This is a private matter. I can handle it.”

“And Lestrade?” John queried.

“And Lestrade.” Sherlock echoed in agreement.

\--TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a new icon! Isn't it pretty? (pets it) I've been painting lately. The painting is called "Little Sherlock" and the style is inspired by Margaret Keane's Big Eyed Waifs.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what to do with this! I'm coming up on the end of the available material. I think I shall have to end this soon. A couple more chapters at least.
> 
> Warnings for... Death of a not very nice man.

John cursed and sprinted down the hallway, his feet nearly slipping out from under him as he crossed the wood and stone floor. Sherlock had gone to meet Magnussen without any protection. Behind him Lestrade crashed into a wall with a metallic crunch of his armor and cursed. “This way!” Lord John urged. Vaguely he knew the layout of this part of the castle from Sherlock’s planning. 

“Did it ever occur to m’lord than I may know where he is going, better than he does? Begging your pardon, but I was raised here.”

“I’m not going to slow down!” John answered. “I’m wearing less armor so I can run faster.”

“It’s to the right, m’lord!” Lestrade called out as they reached another intersection.

John took the right and found himself running down a dark hallway with no torches. A door was open, shining some light into the hallway and John ran for it. At the open door he stopped and Lestrade nearly crashed into him. Regaining his balance, he looked into the room and gasped at the sight. Magnussen stood, holding a dagger to Lady Mary’s breast. King William stood several feet away from both of them. All three glanced at the commotion in the doorway.

“Look who’s here! It’s the country lord. Tell him, or I will.”

Mary gave John a nervous glance before taking a step back for her skirts to reveal that she had been standing over a fallen dagger. “Your highness… My lord husband…”

“Don’t say anything, Lady Mary. You’ve gone too far, Lord Magnussen.”

“I’ve gone too far? I’m not harboring the bastard daughter of the one who tried to overthrow your throne.” Magnussen answered. “She’s a traitor.”

“But she’s the daughter of my captain, Morstan.” John growled in frustration.

“Morstan had no children. His wife was pregnant when they married… And the man she laid with was the traitor, Victor Moriarty. This woman is worthless… A bastard. She is the same blood as the traitor and his heir James. She came here to kill me so I wouldn’t tell her secret.”

“Mary…” John whispered, staring at his wife.

“I’m so sorry, my lord.” Mary answered. “Morstan raised me as his own.”

“Lay down the dagger.” King William commanded.

“If I do she will kill me.”

“She will not kill you if I command it. Lay down your dagger.”

“You lay with traitors! You are weak!” Magnussen snarled and took a swift step towards Mary, his dagger held before him. Suddenly he gave a pained groan and fell. A knife quivered, embedded in his back.

King William stood still with his arms held out after his throw. Slowly he lowered them to his sides. 

Lestrade pushed past Lord John to enter the room. He knelt to stare down at the man bleeding out on the floor. “You’ve been practicing.”

“You told me it might save my life one day.” Sherlock retorted, leaning back against the wall, his energy draining.

John stood in the doorway, watching the scene, his eyes flicking back and forth between a horrified Mary and a drained Sherlock. 

“I’m so sorry, your grace.” Mary fell to her knees. “He cornered me and… I’m so sorry.”

“Get up.” Sherlock answered, rubbing his face with the back of his hand. 

“I didn’t know until my first moon. A servant whispered it to me. I did not to believe it of my poor deceased mother. My father loved her. He loved me.”

Sherlock raised his hand to stop her words. “Stop! Get up off the floor. Don’t grovel.”

Mary got to her feet. “The servant told me that she had been abducted before her wedding. But my father rescued her and wed her anyway. And I was the only child she ever bore. I only heard the brigand’s first name once. I don’t know how he knew.” Vaguely she indicated the dead man on the floor. 

Sherlock stepped into the middle of the room, staring down at the blackmailer. “What we have learned today should never leave this room.”

“Your highness… She is the daughter of a traitor.” Lestrade looked to Mary.

“You are mistaken, Lestrade. She is the daughter of Morstan. Morstan raised her and loved her. Parentage is not always about blood.”

“You highness…” Mary whispered, covering her mouth as the tears fell. “Thank you.”

\--TBC


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little filler... Do you know what's coming in January??? SEASON 4! So I'm basically just vamping until it's released since I'm vaguely running parallel to the series. We'll see what happens in January.
> 
> Also NaNoWriMo starts November 1st. I'm thinking of completely rewriting "Need Me" into a non-fanfic. I haven't reread the fic in ages and so I will attempt to remake it based on what I remember about it with a lot more world building.

If John could imagine one word to describe his approaching fatherhood it was, “shock.” First came the surprise that his mere weeks of sleeping with his new bride caused the pregnancy. Then it was the overwhelming sense of panic that came with bringing a new life into an imperfect world. What if war broke out and he was asked to defend the realm? Sherlock’s realm… What if he died? Because he knew he would give his life to defend Sherlock. What sort of father put the needs of his king and lover before his own blood? What if he failed at being a father or the child grew up to resent him? What if his child felt neglected or unloved? 

“Relax.” Sherlock whispered to him, gently nibbling on his earlobe as he rubbed up against him.

“I can’t stop thinking about what sort of father I will be…” John answered, rolling his head back and desperately trying to follow Sherlock’s orders.

“A bloody good one, I imagine.” Sherlock answered, pushing his fingers into John’s tight orifice. “Better than I…” 

John grunted and shifted to widen his stance on the bed. His shoulders fell to the mattress.

“You are tense.” Sherlock whispered, scissoring his fingers.

“Maybe now isn’t the best time for this…” John answered.

Sherlock pulled his fingers out and lightly patted John’s butt before guiding him to his side. “What is wrong, John?”

“Fatherhood worries. What if I’m a horrible father? What if I neglect my family? What if I die…? What if I disappoint you?”

“You can never disappoint me.” Sherlock murmured, wrapping his arm around John’s waist and pulling him back against his bare chest. 

“You’re pretty confident about that.”

“I know you.” Sherlock kissed the back of his neck. 

“Right… Like how you thought I would leave you a couple of weeks ago? What if I can’t protect you? I’m a soldier… A knight. Someday there may be someone younger and stronger that challenges me on the battlefield.”

“On that day we’ll both fall.”

“No! I don’t want that!” John huffed and turned around so he could face his king. “You cannot die, your highness. I forbid it.”

“Death comes to all, John.”

John reached out to gently cup Sherlock’s cheek in his hand. His king was so young and almost naïve. “Hopefully not for a long while.”

Sherlock leaned in and kissed John’s lips. His tongue traced the lord’s lower lip before he sucked on it.

“You are very distracting…” John murmured against his lips.

“’S good to be king…” Sherlock answered, pushing his tongue into John’s mouth and pulling the other man on top of him.

John broke the kiss and blinked down at the man below him. “What if I lose you?”

“Then you must live on… For me.” Sherlock’s fingertips lightly slid down John’s sides, causing him to twitch. A fond smile crossed his lips. “John… You must. I order it. If something happens to me you must take Mary and the child and go. You must live… For me. No heroics. I would have you live to be very old.”

John nodded and bowed his head, pressing their foreheads together.

Sherlock shifted his legs so his thighs were open and John between them. “You sour my mood.”

“Sorry.” John answered.

“Will you take me?”

John took a deep breath and then shifted their position so he was straddling Sherlock’s hips. “No… You can take me.”

“I do like it when you enter me, John.”

“Well… I’m already prepared for you.” Adjusting his seat, he pushed Sherlock into place and sat down upon him, keeping his eyes on his king. “You must promise to live too… If something happens to me.”

“No fair asking me for that while I’m inside of you.” Sherlock replied, his fingers clutching John’s knees.

“Too bad. I’m asking you right now while I have your full attention.”

“I could have you thrown in the dungeon… You impertinent…”

John gave a gentle bounce and a squeeze. “Go ahead.”

Sherlock pushed up under John, writhing beneath him. 

“I’m waiting…” John teased.

Sherlock growled and rolled them over, pushing into his lover again and again until John cried out and reached for him, spilling his seed between then. Then Sherlock allowed himself to finish before relaxing on top of his paramour, panting for breath.

John wrapped his arms around his king’s sweaty back, holding him close. “You didn’t answer.”

“John…” Sherlock took several more shuddering breaths. “I will survive as a cold, dry husk… But it will be as if my heart had been burned from me. You are my heart.”

John tightened his hold on Sherlock’s body, trying not to think of him as a cold husk of a man.

\--TBC


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah... Season 4... 
> 
> I have so many disappointments and feels about the new season. You know what I have to write in the next few chapters, don't you? Bleh...
> 
> Sorry about the long wait. Due to the current political climate, I'm back on anti-depressants. The side effects make it a little difficult to concentrate on typing. I'm in the process of tweaking the dosage so I can function. When I'm not exhausted I have trouble concentrating. But I've been creative in sewing and jewelry making!

Her name was Rosamund and she was the most beautiful being John had ever seen… Aside from his king. 

From the moment Rosie entered the world her father was mesmerized by her. How could such a sweet bundle of warmth be his? When she wasn’t feeding or being cared for, she spent time with her father and her king… For King William was never far away.

On more than one occasion John placed his daughter in his king’s arms.

Sherlock regarded the tiny being with a hint of sadness on his face.

“What is it?” John asked. But for months Sherlock never answered.

Rosie grew. Small things amused her. Her king was her favorite person. Whenever she was fussy or fitful she would calm immediately when placed in Sherlock’s arms. It was as if he had a gift… Or at least her wet nurse claimed it was so.

Soon Rosie could sit up and there was no doubt that she secretly ruled the kingdom by tossing away her toys and expecting her king to fetch them for her.

It was around that time that rumors began to circulate around court about Mary’s pedigree. And one day she packed up and left in the dead of night, leaving her husband in the arms of his lover, and their child in the care of the wet nurse.

John stared dully at the empty room where he and his wife once inhabited. “What am I to do?”

“It is what it is…” Sherlock answered from where he stood behind his paramour. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was supposed to stay with me and I would protect her. What kind of knight am I if I am unable to protect my own wife?”

“If I knew of some way to track her and bring her back, I would. All I can do is send word. If she doesn’t wish to be found…”

John took a deep breath. “Perhaps it’s for the best. If she stayed she would be attacked by her enemies. At least she can go make a fresh start as someone anonymous.”

Sherlock bit his lips and stepped closer to John. “What about your child?”

“Rosie? Rosie needs a… A mother.” John gave a weary sigh. “I failed in siring an heir.”

Sherlock bit his lips and bowed his head, staring dully at the floor. 

“What is it?” John asked. “You’ve been moody ever since Rosie was born. Tell me.”

“Rosie needs a mother. You need a wife to give you an heir.” Sherlock answered. “I swear I will find her and bring her back to you.”

“Perhaps it’s for the best…” John whispered, holding Rosie tightly. “A child needs their mother.” A warm arm wrapped around his waist and a kiss was placed on the back of his head. “But what if they harm her?”

“I won’t let that happen.” Sherlock replied.

“Do you promise?” 

“I promise.”

But it was a promise that would soon be broken.

\--TBC


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, guys... Season 4 gave me very little to work with before turning into a Scooby Doo episode ("Jinkies! It was old lady Holmes the whole time!"). I really have no idea where to go with this, thanks to Season 4. I'll just put this here and then hammer out a fix-it ending that DOESN'T involve John beating the crap out of a suicidal Sherlock. Happy thoughts! We're almost done. Just this bit of angst. It was so hard to write... But I needed to get something down.

Sherlock read the message and then read it again to be sure of the contents. 

“What does it say?” John asked.

“Your lady wife, Mary, has been found.”

“That’s good!” John smiled. But the look on Sherlock’s face immediately made him frown. “What is it?”

“She has been found by one of her enemies. I’m sorry, John.”

John felt like he had been punched in the gut. It was difficult to breathe. “No…”

“I’m so sorry, John.”

John closed his eyes and took deep breathes, releasing them in raw growls. “You… Promised…” His voice was deep and primal.

“My men…”

“I don’t want to hear it!” John snarled at his king.

Sherlock blinked and bowed his head, looking contrite in the presence of John’s anger. “I’m sorry.”

“You promised no harm would come to her!” John whispered, tears threatening to fall. Without looking at his lover, he left the room.

It was easy to blame Sherlock. Sherlock made John believe he had the power to protect Mary from any harm that came her way. The fact that she wasn’t protected was proof that Sherlock was helpless. It was easy for John to place his guilt on his lover. If they hadn’t been lovers then Mary never would have left. And Rosamund would still have her mother. 

It had been foolish to think that John could live happily ever after with Sherlock. Sherlock had enemies… Mary had enemies. Those enemies would have made a move eventually. And it was Sherlock’s fault that John had been dragged into a place of intrigue.

No, it wasn’t.

Not really.

John followed Sherlock willingly. The king pulled him in and he willingly followed. But at that moment it was so much easier to blame the king than to admit that Mary had enemies that would follow her should she leave the protection of the court.

It was much easier to blame others instead of himself and push Sherlock away.

John needed time to mourn.

The king allowed him that time.

\--TBC

**Author's Note:**

> I usually write one shots. This is going to be an experiment for me. If I can work on this then maybe I can finish that werewolf fic I posted a year ago.


End file.
